


GiGi Said You Want Me

by imaginarycircus



Category: Lizzie Bennet Diaries
Genre: Drunken Confessions, F/M, Humor, Karaoke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-30
Updated: 2013-01-30
Packaged: 2017-11-27 11:46:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/661648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginarycircus/pseuds/imaginarycircus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My friend Kate asked for fic in which Lizzie drunkenly confesses her attraction to Darcy, leading to the infamous line in episode 83.</p>
            </blockquote>





	GiGi Said You Want Me

Lizzie had suggested the song because she and Jane and Lydia used to sing it into their hairbrushes at the top of their lungs whenever there was heartbreak. Not that she or GiGi were all that heartbroken—but given GiGi’s recent on camera confession it felt appropriate. She and GiGi even managed to coordinate impromptu dance moves and hip bumps as they belted out an obscenely off-key rendition of “I Will Survive.” They left the small stage of the Karaoke bar arm in arm, giggling. Lizzie was really coming to love this ridiculous, exuberant girl. 

They stumbled back to their table where GiGi ordered another round of Kamikazes. About thirty seconds after Lizzie’d downed the shot she knew she was over her limit. She felt like she was melting into the shiny white table and she sort of was—slumped over on one arm—her head sideways.

“I like you, Lizzie Bennet. I’ll miss you when you go back home. Promise me you’ll come back and visit me!” GiGi gave an extremely delicate little hiccup.

“I’m going to miss you too!” Lizzie slumped over further so that she could fling an arm around GiGi’s shoulders, or at least near GiGi’s shoulders. GiGi smelled nice. She always did and Lizzie wondered how her hair was so shiny. Caroline’s hair was shiny too. Maybe it was a rich people thing. Darcy’s hair was, well, it was Darcy’s hair. In the past Lizzie had always had the urge to mess it up just to annoy him. He always look groomed within an inch of his life, but on their tour yesterday his hair had been almost messy—strangely that had just deepened her urge to muss it. It made her think of soft white sheets and morning sunlight.

“He wouldn’t have minded.” GiGi was smirking at her and dear Lord she looked like Darcy when she did that.

“Minded what?” Lizzie wondered if GiGi could quirk one eyebrow too.

“If you’d mussed his hair,” GiGi said.

“Oh.” Lizzie attempted to sit up. “Did I say that outside my head?”

“Uh-huh. You sure did.”

“Yeah. He’s OK, you know.” Lizzie squinted at GiGi and clarified, “Your brother. He’s all right.”

“Wait. Are you admitting you like him?” GiGi leaned toward Lizzie, scrutinizing her every facial tic.

“No.” Lizzie shook her head, but they both knew she was lying.

“I’ve seen your recent videos, Lizzie. I’ve seen you with him. I have a photo of you checking him out in his stupid hipster glasses. You can’t lie to me or the Internets!”

“OK. OK. Fine. He’s not so bad.” There was something sticky on the table and Lizzie peeled her arm off of it.

“Oh, come on. He’s not exactly hideous even though he does that weird thing with his chin.”

Lizzie nodded and then shook her head—the motion felt very strange and made her a little dizzy. Wait. Was she agreeing with GiGi or disagreeing? “What?”

“Admit it!”

“Sure. Wait. What am I admitting?”

“That you like William and if I locked you in an office again you’d both come out all mussed and rumpled!”

She could imagine that—her fingers in his stupid hair, the wet slide of his mouth against hers, his hands…

“Ha! I can see that you’re imagining it right now!” GiGi had reached that point of inebriated glee in which she felt compelled to sing every sentence.

“This is all your fault,” Lizzie said. She decided that she’d like to crawl into a bottle of Advil soon and preferably not in public. “I think I need to—bed. Now.”

“I’ll call a cab, or you know, I can just call William.” GiGi tapped at her phone. “I’m sure he’d love to hear anything you have to say to him.”

“Georgiana Darcy, don’t you dare!” Lizzie snatched wildly at the phone.

GiGi let her finger hover over the call button. “I won’t so long as you admit it!”

“Admit what?” Lizzie was staring to feel like they were in some terrible knock-off version of “Waiting for Godot.” She really hated that play. She also hated turnips. Maybe those things were related.

“Lizzie! Admit that you’re in love with my brother.”

Lizzie blew a dismissive stream of air through her lips. “As if. I am so not in love with Darcy.”

“You are. You one hundred percent are. You want to muss his hair and smooch him and have ten thousand babies. And I will be the best aunt ever. But don’t tell Lydia or Jane I said that, because I really, really want them to like me.”

“Ten thousand babies? That’s horrifying. I think my uterus just tried to flee in protest.” Lizzie clutched her belly.

GiGi poked Lizzie in the arm over and over chanting, “Confess!”

Like that was going to work. Lizzie had taught Lydia that move.

“You’ve left me no choice.” GiGi hit the send call button and was about to speak—Lizzie could see the W forming on her lips.

“Oh. My. God. All right. Yes. I want your brother!” Unfortunately a song had just ended and Lizzie ended up shouting into a lull. Heads swiveled to look at her and she buried her face in her arms.

“See. That wasn’t so bad.” GiGi patted her shoulder. She showed Lizzie she hadn’t called anyone.

Lizzie let her forehead hit the table and listened to GiGi call a taxi and for once she didn’t argue about letting someone else foot the bill. Even in her fairly foggy state of mind she was terrified of what GiGi might do with this information. Because she was pretty sure that GiGi could take over France armed with a popsicle stick and some chewing gum.

“You’re not going to tell him, right?” Lizzie asked even though she knew the answer. The back of the cab smelled like feet.

GiGi scoffed. “Of course not.”

“You’re a terrible liar, GiGi.”

Lizzie couldn’t quite remember the rest of the ride home, but GiGi was very chirpy and kept asking if she could be in the wedding. She was suggesting colors—depending on the season. Lizzie just let her go on. Maybe she’d tire herself out the way Lydia used to when she had a tantrum.

GiGi pushed her out of the cab. Lizzie drank two glasses of water, took two ibuprofen and managed to sleep for nearly nine hours—though she woke up still clutching her toothbrush. After a shower and some coffee she looked passable. At least she wouldn’t have to face Darcy on camera looking like she was coming off a two day bender.

She was so nervous about the interview that she didn’t see it coming and really she should have.

“GiGi said you want me.”

Until she went back and watched the footage she had no idea what she’d actually said because she was completely focused on not saying something like, “Yes.” or “You have no idea.” or “Like burning.” 

The wig just made everything a hundred times worse even though she’d never seen anyone looks so ridiculous. Bits of GiGi’s nattering rose up in her thoughts. Ten thousand babies—well, no. Maybe two? And not yellow. Lizzie looked terrible in yellow and Lydia hated it. She could feel her mother up there in her brain, rattling around, haunting her thoughts, moaning about the 2.5 WPF club. She might as well have been Pavlov’s drooling dog.

She didn’t want to get married. That was absurd. She did, however, really, really want to plant one on Darcy though. Her lips trembled slightly and she bit her bottom one to still them.

She could simply grab the lapels of his coat and yank him towards her, but that seemed to lack finesse. Besides she could imagine GiGi lurking in the hall with a camera at the ready—her ear pressed to the door. No. She’d wait for the right place and time. There was no rush.


End file.
